Alone by the Sea
by Envious Sloth
Summary: (drabble) What is there to do anymore in this current life of waiting? What was it that the boy could do except think and reflect by this vast sea and sky?


He sat alone by a sea that seemed vaguely familiar to his eyes. A distant memory that he believed he stumbled upon before, or perhaps a memory that he has actually been a part of. It had been too long since he saw this vast ocean that stretched beyond, blending into the sky. When he breathed the air around him, he can smell the saltiness of the waters — how fresh it seemed to him, as though he was given a new life. He certainly wished that it was a new life, but all he found himself to be was trapped by this current life. A current life of waiting — hoping for better to come.

Before this all began, he knew for certain that he would enter this life of waiting. He knew that, but he carried on, believing that was for the best. Believing that by disappearing, by returning to where he was meant to be, that things would be better for everyone. He didn't want to believe that at first. He rejected the idea for so long; to disappear without anyone remembering him —his greatest fear. He had a taste of life — a short taste of it — and he wanted more, but fate fell short of his wishes, and he had to accept it. It helped knowing that perhaps, there may be a chance that he can regain that old life of his someday.

But that "someday" has led to a long wait. All he had was this sea and the wooden dock that he sat upon, swinging his leg above the water. He gazed blankly at the waters below him, seeing his own reflection — another sight that he has grown used to after all this time. When he stared into the eyes of his own image, he could not help but feel curiosity. He questioned how and why he came here. Why is it that, after all this time, he is trapped here? He questioned his fate again, even despite going along with it. If he were alone, if he was himself, could he leave this place? Instead, he remained on the docks, staring out to the horizon. The thought had weighed down on him: how he said he wanted to be recognize as himself, only to be ensnared by another's being. Just the presence of that other made him to become a mere shadow, and it agitated him. By staying on this island instead of choosing to leave, that showed he truly is just a shadow. That his entire being relied on another person's being, and that made him recognize the emptiness in himself. Hollow. It ached him. How was it that he can call himself alive? What made him feel alive?

There were memories from his old life, where he smiled until his face hurt; where he cried until his eyes burned; where he yelled in anger until his throat was in pain. There were memories where he was alone just like on the docks now and memories where he was with others. Those memories where he was with others had made him feel like he existed, but those memories were so distant that the emotions associated can only feel muted. The feelings are no longer tangible like before.

His existence is muted. Everything about it. Being alone with nothing to feel, a slight notion of memories that tell him there is more than this life of waiting. Everything felt so distant.

Empty.

Hollow.

Again those words stirred in his mind, and he wished that were not the case.

If there was anything especially that he missed from his old life, it was the feeling of not being alone. Many memories of sharing sweets with people in a town lighted up by the sunset skies flood his mind everyday, as his mind drifted away from the scenery before him. Salty but sweet. That was what he remembered. He couldn't recall the exact taste but he knew that was it, and he knew that he loved it dearly. He loved sharing it with people that he was fond over. He did not mind one bit that the scenery he shared with them was the same every time; he was simply glad that they were together. Laughing away, playing with each other, or even just talking — those were the highlights of his memories, and he wouldn't dare change or forget those memories.

But a part of him wished he did; it would have made leaving that life behind a lot easier.

He buried his head into his arms. He was growing tired from remembering and from this constant scene alone. Perhaps some sleep would be the best way to spend time.

Then there was a tap at his shoulder. His head peaked immediately and turned to his left.

A boy with the sweets he recalled. The other boy gave him a large grin and gave one of the sweets to him.

"Welcome back, Roxas."


End file.
